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It Was The Winter Wild, While The Heaven-born Child, All Meanly Wrapt In The Rude Manger Lies.
-John Milton
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It Was The Winter Wild, While The
John Milton
It Was The Winter Wild, While The Heaven-born Child, All Meanly Wrapt In The Rude Manger Lies.
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Children
Lying
Winter
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Knowledge Forbidden? Suspicious, Reasonless. Why Should Their Lord Envy Them That? Can It Be Sin To Know, Can It Be Death? And Do They Only Stand By Ignorance? Is That Their Happy State, The Proof Of Their Obedience And Their Faith? O Fair Foundation Laid Whereon To Build Their Ruin!
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Should God Create Another Eve, And I Another Rib Afford, Yet Loss Of Thee Would Never From My Heart; No No, I Feel The Link Of Nature Draw Me: Flesh Of Flesh, Bone Of My Bone Thou Art, And From Thy State Mine Never Shall Be Parted, Bliss Or Woe.
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And Pomp, And Feast, And Revelry, With Mask, And Antique Pageantry, Such Sights As Youthful Poets Dream On Summer Eves By Haunted Stream.
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Till Old Experience Do Attain To Something Like Prophetic Strain.
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For Contemplation He And Valour Formed; / For Softness She And Sweet Attractive Grace, / He For God Only, She For God In Him: / His Fair Large Front And Eye Sublime Declared / Absolute Rule.
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